Un Philtre d'Amour
by TheColourOfStarlight
Summary: AU. Love potions? Sora had never really believed in them. But a visit to the carnival's fortune-teller could be more than enough to change his mind... [Sorax?] (Formerly "Love Potion No. 07")
1. 1

** So we meet again, Dear Reader. I'm doing fine and I hope you are too. If you remember, my "liner note" at the end of _It Comes Around_ said I originally intended to end that story cycle with a different piece. Well this is it. It didn't fit very well, so I kept at it. Eventually it turned into this very long one-shot. I didn't want to force 5,000+ words down your throat—err, _eyes—_at once, so I broke it down into several more-manageable chunks for your reading pleasure.**

**~TheColourOfStarlight**

-o-o-o-

**Un ****Philtre d'Amour**

-o-o-o-

1

The scenery seemed to fly past outside his passenger window, as Sora sat in stony silence and watched it all slip out of his view. The engine would rumble on occasion, but for the most part it was mute. Riku hadn't switched on the radio yet, and he was glad. Frown if you like (God only knows how many times Riku had), but he hated that classic rock stuff that was on every single one of Riku's presets.

The car turned for the umpteenth time and Sora let out muted sigh as they turned onto another road with no sign of their destination approaching. He was frustrated and was seriously having second thoughts on getting into a car with Riku. Of course, it was a little too late to do anything now, but he could at least vent his aggravations through heavy nose breathing.

"What?" the other boy asked sharply. Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

"Are we there yet?" Sora asked, the bite in his voice the only thing keeping him from sounding like a whiny seven year old. Riku shook his head just once, keeping his eyes locked on the road.

"No. Sora. We are not there yet," Riku answered tersely. Sora fought back the urge to strangle the other person in the car—deciding that murdering the person who was driving was generally a bad idea—and settled with a curt "okay." He turned back to the window.

He liked car trips because they usually afforded him the opportunity to think, and boy did he have a lot of thinking to do. He hadn't realized it was this bad. Sure, they were having issues in their relationship, but c'mon, who didn't? But when you can't even sit in a car and be civil…? Sora had a sneaking suspicion that the idea of Them was about to be screwed with a capital 'S.'

Sora must have started dozing—darn car rides; he wasn't a kid anymore!—because before he knew it, he was awakened by the old Ford bouncing over a large patch of gravel. Sora opened his eyes to the sight of colorful tents and a Ferris wheel looming overhead.

They were at the carnival. It was an over-sentimental idea, Sora thought, but it was where they had gone on their first date, him and Riku. Things had been tense between them the last couple months. It was he who suggested they relive their first date, as a conciliatory gesture, but they both implicitly knew that it was their last chance to patch things up before that capital-'S' word snuck up on them and did its thing.

The fairgrounds, though only the second day, were already littered with stray popcorn containers and used napkins. The smell of fried foods (Sora was secretly looking forward to a funnel cake) drifted overhead. However, upon closer inspection, something seemed wrong. The colors of the tents weren't their usual bright reds and yellows, but somber parodies of the same hues. The lot they were standing in was—besides the many semis—basically empty, and a grey haze seemed linger over them in.

"C'mon," Riku said gruffly, slamming the car door closed. Sora carefully shut his own door and fell behind. They paid their ten dollar admission and proceeded in. The experience that Sora had imagined completely faded from his mind: the fair was dead, or at least a shadow of its former self. It was practically abandoned, and the people who did walk about looked either drunk, hung over, or fixing to get hammered.

Riku tried his hand at a few carnival games as Sora watched from the side. The one they were currently at consisted of throwing a softball into the mouth of a large cardboard monkey that was obviously hungry for Americana. Riku flashed Sora a smirk before trying his hand. However, after seven-and-a-half minutes (Sora had kept an eye on his watch) and more money than Sora would have cared to count, it ended in curses.

After Sora got his much-coveted funnel cake, they ended up walking around the grounds with nothing really in mind. With each step, Sora was beginning to feel good about Them again. Sora was telling Riku about a man with an extremely odd hat that had walked past while he was using the port-o-potty, and Riku—in between bites of his cotton candy—was actually _laughing_.

They reached the end of their path and came upon a dead end. They stopped. Staring back at them was a tent, you couldn't see inside it was so dark, but the outside was a bright blue and purple. The sign outside simply read _FAYRE_ in large script.

"That's odd…" Riku said with disdain. He was never really a fan of anything out of the ordinary. "Let's go in," Sora said. Despite being a non-believer, the unknown had always piqued his curiosity. So Riku was reluctantly dragged along as Sora went inside. It was as dark on the inside as it appeared to be on the outside.

"_Av akai_," a lady's voice beckoned. He would never admit it, but the voice made his skin crawl.

He walked further in and saw that it was a fortune teller's tent. There were large tomes tossed haphazardly on the floor that sported such titles as _Necronomicon_, and _Voodoo of the Caribbean_. A table that stood in the middle of the room had a gaudy crystal ball in the center with a deck of tarot cards sitting beside it. The tiny lady sitting behind the table was done up in the usually carnival gypsy frock. Her face was plastered with thick make-up and she had a nose that some of Sora's high school classmates would have called a "Jew nose." She beckoned for them to sit down, and Sora did. The seat was oddly cold.

"Art thou well?" she asked. Riku scoffed. "Drop the act, lady," he said. "What are you even supposed to be, a New Orleans gypsy that speaks Old English? What a phony." Sora looked absolutely mortified, but the lady shrugged it off.

"Fine," she said, suddenly adopting a Mid-Atlantic accent. "So I'm not an actual gypsy," she admitted, "are you surprised? But I _can_ read fortunes; _c'est vrai_." Sora looked up at her with doubting eyes. The tent reeked of alcohol and cannabis. "I've got a deck of _de Marseille_," she showed them, fanning the deck before their eyes.

"Can you do me?" he asked meekly. She nodded her head and Sora could have sworn he heard (yes, heard) Riku roll his eyes. He grunted in dissatisfaction and left Sora to wait outside. "What is your question?" she asked with a hint of mystery.

"What can you tell me about my love life?" She glanced at the doorway, then looked back at him knowingly. "Is he your…?" Sora shook his head furiously, but she gave him a knowing look. "C'mon honey, don't lie to me. I won't judge. I'm a fake gypsy, after all."

After Sora said that yes, he was his boyfriend (and he was seriously sorry about his attitude), she shuffled the deck quickly before she looked back at him. "You want the three card or the seven card spread?" she asked, sounding like she belonged more on the Vegas strip than in a circus tent. "Uh, three card?" Sora asked, and before he knew it, three cards were laid out flat before him.

The first one—which was really the last card from his point of view—was a woman with a large hat sitting on the back of a lion. The not-quite-gypsy pointed down to it. "_Le Force_," she said gravely. In the middle was a picture of what looked like Adam and Eve. To him it was upside-down. She gestured to this one with her bony finger. "_L'Amoureux._" The last card she pointed to, which was really the first card for him, he could also make out clearly. It was a pregnant woman. "_L'Impératrice_," she said.

Sora looked down at them, puzzled. "What do they mean?" he asked. He was caught up in the moment and his doubts concerning her abilities had been dazzled from his mind. She looked up at him. She had very pale eyes. "Come around and I'll tell you." Sora, looking back for Riku and remembering he had left, eagerly ran behind the table.

"_Le Force_. Strength," again she gestured to funny hat lady. "What does it mean?" Sora asked. "Well, when inverted, it can represent pride, anger, or loss of control. Have you experienced any of these recently?" He felt like he was being asked his symptoms at a doctor's office, but nodded that he had. It was true. He doubted it would have gone so far, but he and Riku had almost gotten physical in the past. And not the good kind… he might add.

"Next you have The Lovers." He looked at them quizzically. "What are _they_ supposed to mean?" he asked, a million different interpretations running through his head. "Lots of things," she answered. "Doubt, dilemma... _choice_."

"Finally you have the Empress. And she—" the gypsy intercepted Sora's coming question, "—can represent the birth or rebirth of life, art, or romance." Sora sat in silence, trying to make sense of the whole thing. "Basically," she explained, "you've gone through a rough patch in your relationship, you'll be faced with a choice, and then love will be born or reborn. Or, at least, that's my interpretation."

Sora nodded his head slowly. "And, I think I have something to make your choice a little easier," she said. She reached under the table and pulled out a small vial of a clear liquid. "It's the Balsam of Ferumbras," she explained. "It can fix all of your romantic 'issues.' All you and your lover have to do is take a drink, split it between the two of you, and the effects will have full effect within twenty-four hours."

She handed it to Sora. "Just remember, the easy way out isn't always the easiest." The way she said that almost worried him.

Sora stood there, confused, before he pulled out his wallet. "Oh, don't worry about it," the gypsy said gently, "This one's on the house." She shook her head slowly. "I never get customers anymore," she reminisced sadly.

"But now, I have to ask you to leave." She stood up and shook his hand. "It's my lunch break." Sora pocketed his wallet then the vial, and walked out, waving as he left. She called after him. "My name is Felicia, by the way."

2

Riku stood outside, squatting on the ground and pulling out weeds that had grown up between the cracks in the pavement. He stood at the sound of Sora's footsteps and dusted his hands off on the seat of his pants. "How was the quack?" he asked, a little too self-assured, Sora thought.

"Eh, she was alright," Sora brushed the snarkiness aside. "What took you so long?" asked Riku as they began walking back the way they came. "What do you mean?" Sora raised an eyebrow. "According to my phone, you were in there for half an hour. I was fixing to go in there and drag you out."

Sora stopped in his tracks. "What?" He was sure that he'd only been five minutes. Ten at the most. He looked down at his watch and saw that Riku was right. It _had_ been thirty minutes. "Of course, when are you ever punctual?" Riku laughed. Sora fought back the urge to be snide in return only when he remembered the vial of Balsam of… Fierabras or something like that. He laughed along instead.

"Can we get something to eat?" Riku asked as they strolled along. "All I've had was that cotton candy. And that doesn't last very long, let me tell ya." Sora nodded his head. He looked around to see if any more people had shown up while he was in with the fortune-teller, but it seemed as if people had left. It was basically deserted.

They first stall they ran into sold your run-of-the-mill drinks and deep-fried Mars bars. Riku got one and a Pepsi to boot. Sora wasn't in the mood for a deep-fried anything, so he stuck with lemonade. They sat down on a bench beside a planter full of young daisies. It was quiet. The carnival surrounded them like a backdrop, and for the second time that day, they sat in uncomfortable silence.

"I can't believe you spent so much time in there." It was Riku who had suddenly spoken. He had set his soda, which was still mostly full, down on the ground and was staring up at the sky. "What?" Sora asked, with a confused tone. "With that fraudulent fortune-teller," Riku explained, enjoying his little bit of alliteration as he looked over to the brunet. "They're all such fakes. I don't understand why you even listened to that BS. I mean, no one—"

But before he could finish, his foot was drenched with something wet and sticky. "Shit," he cursed as he stood. His drink had spilt all over his shoes, and a scowl crossed his face. "How did that happen?" Sora asked, but he was ignored as Riku gazed longingly down at his footwear.

"Here," Sora said, "go to the restroom and see if you can wash that off and I'll get you another drink. How does that sound?" Riku mumbled an okay and wandered off to a nearby building, leaving the brunet alone.

Sora watched as Riku went inside, then his thoughts immediately trailed to that vial, sitting innocently in his pocket, up until now he had forgotten about the whole fortune-teller ordeal. He pulled it out and stared at its contents as he held it up in the sun. There was no way that it could work. Potions and the like weren't real. It fizzed a little as he shook it in its container and looked almost like Perrier.

Sora laughed a little at the thought of him holding an actual love potion, and went up to buy another soda from the vendor, explaining what had happened. When he returned to where they had been sitting, he saw that Riku hadn't made it back from cleaning off his shoes yet. Could anyone be more vain?

He looked down at the liquor in his hand and his head was filled with misgivings. What was the harm in drinking this (questionable) potion, he wondered. It wasn't like it was a move to murder their relationship. It was him doing everything he could to save them from each other, providing that it actually _worked_.

And before he could try to talk himself out of it any more, Sora twisted the cork out of the opening and downed the draught in a single gulp. It tasted like sea salt. With another quick gesture, he had flicked the lid off the cup and poured the rest of it into Riku's soda. He watched intently as the clear liquid from the vial swirled and merged with the soda in the cup.

He tossed the little container into the planter behind him and snapped the plastic lid back on in the nick of time. "Hey," Riku smiled as he walked up. Had he noticed what he was up to? "Thanks for the drink," Riku extended a hand. Sora's heart rate eased up as he handed the newcomer the plastic cup. "I got most of it cleaned off."

Sora smiled, and then something got caught on one of the jagged edges of his brain. What exactly _was_ that concoction, that "balsam?" Forget about the ethics of freewill. For all he knew, he had just poisoned the both of them, or given them AIDS or something.

"Rik—" he opened his mouth, but Riku had already taken a deep drink. Too late now, Sora thought morosely. "Uggh, this tastes weird," Riku grimaced. "Like crayons or something." Sora sniggered. "And how do you know what crayons taste like?" he joked. "Well, it's a funny story…" Riku said. Sora laughed again, glad that Riku had loosened up some, and decided that the two of them should visit the Ferris wheel. He took the taller boy by the hand and dragged him off.

The rest of the trip went off without incident (Sora could almost call it "enjoyable") and the car ride home was filled with honest laughs about what they had seen and what they had done. They swung by an Arby's and grabbed a burger on the way back, and—for the first time in at least a month—the rest of the trip was devoid of covert snipes aimed at one another.

They got back to their shared apartment, and they watched _Survivor_. It was nice, Sora thought, that things could finally be back to normal, the way they should be, or at least headed there. Again, he thought of that mixture they had drunk, and he wondered how much better it could get. The full effects kicked in the next day, right? They showered and got ready for bed. At ten-thirty they said goodnight and went to their separate bedrooms. He heard Riku's door close, he closed his, and then he yawned. Not a big yawn, but a yawn nonetheless. He suddenly felt very sleepy.

That night, Sora had his first wet dream in a very long time.

-o-o-o-

**5/6/13**


	2. 2

-o-o-o-

**Un ****Philtre d'Amour**

-o-o-o-

3

Sora awoke to the sun in his eyes and Mr. Jagger saying goodbye to Ruby Tuesday. He splayed out in his bed as he stretched. He didn't feel like getting up under any circumstances, but at nine o'clock, he finally rolled out of bed. He grabbed some clothes out of his closet and went to take a shower. A glance over at Riku's door told him that he was still asleep. Sora smiled. It wasn't often that he woke up before Riku, and he counted each time he did a small victory.

He closed the bathroom door and took a hot shower. It felt wonderful. He stepped out dripping wet, and (even though the mirror was totally fogged) he could tell he looked better than he had in quite a while. He toweled off and got dressed. He was brushing his teeth when he thought about yesterday and the addition to Riku's drink. Then he remembered that he too, had drunken some, and he laughed to himself with his toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth because no, he had _not_ managed to kill them both.

He heard a door close outside and, after rinsing out his mouth, he went out to wish his beloved a good morning. But he didn't see Riku standing there in the living area. Well, he did—but it wasn't _his _Riku. "Good morning," Sora said. His words were slow, like they had gotten caught up in molasses. The taller of the two looked over, and flashed Sora a wan smile. "Good morning to you." Sora frowned as Riku strode past him into the bathroom. It wasn't right—something was off—and when Sora finally pinpointed what it was, he simply stood there in shock. _He wasn't in love with him anymore_.

He didn't know how he could tell, but that warmth you feel, right in your gut… He just didn't feel it anymore. True, it had slowly diminished over the last couple of months (he would be the first to admit that), but despite the fact that the spark had begun to rekindle last night, now it was completely and totally _gone_. Riku was practically a stranger—a very intimate stranger—to him now, and he could almost be certain that Riku felt the exact same way. The good morning greeting between them had been neither fond nor fierce. It was just indifferent, like you would to a stranger on a bus.

"I'm going out for a while," he called, and before Riku could object (though he doubted he really would have), he grabbed the keys and left. The drive was longer than he thought it would be: he hadn't realized it yesterday, but the fairgrounds were two towns over. He decided to leave the radio off this time as well. He really needed to think, and he didn't want a single thing to distract him. His first order of business, he decided, was finding that fortune-teller. What was her name again, Felicia… or something?

He pulled up in the familiar parking lot, paid the entrance fee and stormed inside the grounds. He had some trouble finding the path they had wandered previously, but when he found it, he made a beeline straight to the end.

He stopped abruptly when he reached his destination, however, for the dead end was just that. A dead end. He looked around wildly for the dark tent or the antiquated sign, some sign of the fortune-teller from last night, but found nothing but a discarded bag of peanuts.

"Hey," he waved over to an employee who happened to be passing by. "Where did the tent go that was here yesterday? The one with the fortune-teller," he asked. "It was big and blue." The man wrinkled his forehead at what the boy said. "Her name was Felicia," Sora added impatiently. His disjointed questions earned him another puzzled look. He was about to throw his hands in the air and give up when he finally got an answer. "Felicia…? She don't work here no more."

"What?"

"She's dead." Sora blanched. "What do you mean she's dead? What happened? She looked fine when I saw her." The man shrugged his wide shoulders. "'Course she did. She died about… seven years ago, I think. She was always drinkin' and doin' drugs. One day she just kicked the bucket, dead."

"What do you mean?" Sora said. "What I mean," the man said, "is that you saw her ghost. She pops up from time to time and harasses fairgoers. Really classy lady, she was… Wait; was she short with a big schnoz?" Sora nodded the affirmative and the man chuckled. "Then it was definitely her. I got to go now, kid," he waved a broom in Sora's face. "Some kid just threw up over by the carousel."

As he left, Sora called out after him. "But ghosts aren't real. They don't exist." Without turning back, the worker yelled something back. His parting words were simple, but they sounded particularly funny to Sora's ears. "Sure they do, kid, sure they do."

He fell to the ground in a heap and sat, staring at what was in front of him with a blank expression on his face. He bolted upright; an idea had come to him. He raced over to where he and Riku had been sitting when he (yes, it was him) spilled Riku's drink all over his shoes to shut him up.

He reached into the planter and, after several minutes of frantic digging, pulled out the glass vial. He held it up to the sun, mirroring his actions from the night before. He looked at it. It was real. At least, it seemed real. He held it firmly in his hands; it felt pretty solid. So if the vial wasn't an apparition, she couldn't have been one either. Besides, how could she be when they don't—

_ sure they do, kid, sure they do_

_ —_exist? He looked at the glass once more before he burst into laughter. He laughed mad, maniacal laughter for a few minutes, stopped, and promptly started again. There was no trace of a tent ever having been there, but the proof was in his hand. When the final laugh faded from the air, he stood up and wandered around the carnival for about an hour, but despite his best efforts, he didn't find another speck of evidence of the gypsy.

He left for home at about three o'clock. (He didn't know what time he had left, but his legs ached as if he'd been walking around the carnival for hours.) The drive home wasn't particularly interesting, but that was alright. Driving was something he usually enjoyed, he felt so… in control whenever he was behind the wheel.

About twenty minutes from the apartment, he saw that the needle on the gas gauge had dropped dangerously low. He kept his eyes peeled and stopped at the first gas station he ran into: a local job, AJ's Gas 'n' Go. The pay-at-the-pump feature was out of order, so after he filled his tank, he had to go in.

He went in and peeled to the left, grabbing a Mountain Dew out from one of the back refrigerators before walking up to the counter. Screw the guys who said that soda was bad for your health, sometimes you just wanted one. The cashier had his head down and was flipping through a magazine, _Rolling Stone_ from the looks of it. His bronzed name tag simply read Roxas in a thin, serif font. "Hey," Sora said, feeling a little awkward. Roxas looked up. Sora hated himself for it—he really did like Riku, after all—but at that instant he found himself in love with somebody else. Somebody named Roxas.

4

It's funny how some things can change in an instant. How you can go from living to dead or ecstatic to devastated in the blink of an eye. Sora hadn't exactly compiled a list of what could happen in a second or three, but he decided he could add "falling in love" to that list.

"Hey," Sora said, putting the soda bottle down on the counter. The awkward trepidation sneaking into his voice made him sound like an adolescent in the middle of puberty, which made him feel even more nervous and self-conscious. The cashier looked up from what must have been a gripping article over Daft Punk, and Sora gave him an uncomfortable half-grin. He wanted to say something pithy and funny, but the only thing that he could think of was contrived small talk about local weather patterns. He opted for silence, and waited for a reaction from the blond.

The cashier  
nodded his head in uninterested acknowledgement. "Sup?" he said, before asking if it was Sora on pump three. Sora nodded in a kind of stupor. The blond—_Roxas_—had a very pretty voice. "Cool," the blond said, unfazed as his fingers danced over the various keys on the giant slab of a register. He could be a singer in another life, Sora thought earnestly. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so giddy, and over a boy to boot.

"That'll be $29.43," Roxas said, boredom coloring his voice. Sora picked the Mountain Dew up from the counter. It made him shiver. Sora looked up and for a brief second, their eyes met. It was all he could do from swooning like a Victorian woman. Yes, _swooning_. Sora suddenly found the counter to be very interesting. "Will that be all?" Roxas asked. Despite his obvious desire to be anywhere else than there, his voice was smooth. Incredibly smooth.

"Um…" Sora said. "Y'know, I think I'm gonna get something else..." Roxas gave him a blank stare. "Sure. Go ahead," he said, and Sora realized that he had just been standing there. He walked around the closest aisle (while trying to look cool without looking like he was actually trying) and stared at the bright colors blinking up at him from the wall of candy and other snack foods. The reds and blues of the wrappers gave way to thoughts of the stranger in his apartment. Well, he wasn't a stranger; in fact, Sora knew him quite intimately. But what did that mean for him right now?

He took a breath and held it in. Could he honestly say that what he was feeling right now was love, or a romantic attraction of any kind? He doubted it—this had been a five minute interaction, at the most—but he couldn't deny what he was feeling. It was what he had felt with Riku once, when they were first dating. With Riku though, it had disappeared. Sure… last night Sora was sure he was beginning to feel it again, but life had to pitch him a curve ball and shove a hot blond in his face, didn't it?

Sora paused before he let out his breath and took in another noseful of air. Could that concoction have actually worked, the one from the gypsy (who was definitely still alive; it had to be a joke). What were the odds? What if it was just a… what was that word again, a _placebo_? Yeah, that sounded about right, and it really could have been one of those for all he knew. But why was he feeling something, and for someone else? It all seemed like a cruel practical joke to him.

Riku. He would have to talk to Riku. No matter how much he didn't want to do it, he had to. Either he would fix things, make them right, or he would have to tell him what he had done at the carnival and they'd both have to move on with their lives. He walked back up to the counter empty-handed. Roxas raised an eyebrow. "Change your mind again?"

Sora nodded sheepishly, and Roxas read him his total again. Sora said that he had and muttered a self-deprecating joke. The cashier laughed, and Sora went over the moon. He pulled out his wallet and while he paid for his gas, the blond started talking to him about sports and such. Apparently, he really loved baseball.

He went out into the parking lot, crawled into his car—still parked at the pump—and, without starting up the vehicle, began screaming at the world in general. The drive home was quiet. There was nothing decent on the radio, and Sora had too much on his mind to enjoy anything good that might have come on anyway.

He returned home and saw Riku watching the tube. He did it every day, but for some reason it was different this time. "Hey," the other boy said, not turning around, not even taking his eyes off the damn television set. "Hey," Sora replied, collapsing onto the loveseat in their apartment. Riku looked down at the brunet and asked him how his day was. Sora told him that it had been fine, and Riku nodded his head.

It was the picture of domesticity, Sora thought, but it really wasn't that at all. It was hollow. That was the word that Sora felt fit best. It wasn't "stale," and it wasn't "flat." Well, maybe it was once, but now it was just _hollow_ now. Everything was, it seemed.

He shut his eyes and thought about things, his mind going to his course over Spanish literature, as his boyfriend (…boyfriend?) watched what sounded like a Dodge—"grab life by the horns"—commercial. It was only two o'clock, but he suddenly realized that he felt really tired. He fought off sleep for as long as he could, but he eventually succumbed to his fatigue, all to the sound of _M*A*S*H_.

5

Five days had passed and, despite his best efforts (which may or may not have included raw oysters), he and Riku were falling apart. Despite what he had decided back at the gas station, he hadn't told Riku about the potion. He just couldn't.

Sora had had his doubts about mystical, magical things in the past, and Riku flat-out rejected even the slightest possibility that they might work. If he sat down and tried to have a reasonable conversation with Riku, tell him what he had done, Riku would have either laughed it off and been a condescending prick, gotten pissy about it, or both. And none of those options would be good for them.

So Riku had moved out before the weekend had rolled around. He said that he felt they needed some time apart. That moment was the closest Sora had come to spilling the beans, when he begged him to stay. But Sora kept his mouth shut and Riku couldn't be swayed.

Now Sora was sitting in front of the TV alone, just staring at the blank screen. It was sad, really. He looked back at the mantle clock that sat on the kitchen counter. Somehow, he had talked Riku into meeting him for one last dinner at six. He hoped that maybe he could convince him to come back; it was worth a shot, at least. The ticking minute hand told him that it was almost three.

He stood up with a stretch and grabbed at his pocket. Car keys? Check. He went out to the parking lot outside and jumped into his car. He still had three hours to meet with Riku, but he had something else he wanted to do in the meantime.

He hopped onto the turnpike and drove ten miles over the speed limit the whole way there, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that he was on his way to the end, so to speak. He had a gut feeling that something would be over before the night ended. What it would be exactly, he didn't know.

He had his windows rolled down (something he never did: he was paranoid about something flying in or out of his car) and the wind on his face felt great. It was one of those days where the sun was out and shining, but the air was frigid. It was absolutely rejuvenating.

Sora passed a gas station—the Gas 'n' Go where a particular someone worked—but kept driving. Nothing would slow him down today. He turned off the highway, and the pavement gave way to gravel. Further down, that turned to dirt. The fairground was up ahead. When he got there, felt the car bouncing around the parking lot, he swung into the nearest open spot. He got out of his car and began to make his way up the gate, but stopped mid-step. There was no one in sight. His jaw hung open.

The fairground was deserted.

-o-o-o-

**5/8/13**


	3. 3

-o-o-o-

**Un ****Philtre d'Amour**

-o-o-o-

6

He let out a sigh as a loose leaf of paper, probably an ad for the long-gone carnival, blew past him in the breeze. It was quiet out. Not a motorist passed by to shatter the silence. There were only birds, chirping in the background. A frown had settled onto his face. He took a couple steps towards where the admissions booth had stood, trying to prove to himself that this wasn't a bad dream but just really shitty luck.

He trudged back to his car and collapsed in the seat. He didn't close the door. He didn't even swing his legs in. Suddenly, he didn't feel like seeing Riku. Rather, he wanted to crawl into bed and wait until tomorrow to do anything, if he did anything at all.

He started the engine, shut his car door, and pulled out of the gravel parking lot, making sure to run over an empty Coke can for good measure. He was cruising down the highway blasting Imagine Dragons over his car speakers when he cursed himself for not stopping for gas earlier (and seeing Roxas again, a little voice in the back of his head added). According to his dashboard, the tank was almost completely empty. It would take a miracle for him to go another half mile, let alone get him home.

There was a gas station right off the road ahead. After he drove a little closer, he saw that it was a rather unclean truck stop. He stopped, filled up—one thing was certain: his wallet was not enjoying his constant trips out here—and got back into his car. It had become a miserable day; the sun had disappeared, and the slight breeze had turned into a harsh wind. Icy rain came down sporadically. This kind of weather always put him in the mood to curl up on the couch with a hot TV dinner and maybe watch a Sandra Bullock movie. (She was his straight celebrity crush, Riku used to say.)

Something caught his eye as he was leaving, though, that made any thought of beauty pageants or guys in a coma vanish without a trace. It was a large brigade of gaily-colored trucks, bright reds and yellows. Some had matching semi-trailers; others were paired with flatbeds loaded down with sleeping machinery. A few of the trucks had _Goa Carnival Co._ printed on the side in a large, block font.

Sora wasn't sure if they were a part of the fair that he and Riku had been to, but he decided it was worth a look. He pulled a U-ey and parked his car out front, across the lot from the fluorescent fleet of vehicles. He leapt out and approached the large vehicles, huffing in annoyance as he got closer: there was no one out. Of course not, Sora thought to himself. Shitty weather versus a hot meal? That was a no-brainer. He went in and saw a tired looking man in his mid-thirties coming out from the restrooms and (despite knowing how awkward it would be) walked up to him with a smile.

"Hey," he asked, "are you with the carnival trucks outside?" The man raised a brow, but nodded a quick yes. "Were you guys here in town recently?" The man uttered a gruff "yeah," and, looking annoyed, pushed his way past Sora and stalked away. The brunet had wanted to ask him a few more questions, but the guy was in a hurry for his dinner. He couldn't fault him for that.

He looked in the direction of the dining area and found two or three tables hosting drivers and felt his heart leap with excitement. He began to feel hopeful—for anything, really—as he walked over to them, but that feeling was quickly dashed out when he stopped and thought about the situation. What exactly could these truckers do for him? Unless they were well-versed in voodoo and swamp magic, Sora figured not much.

Feeling dejected, he trudged out the front doors, casting one last forlorn look at the trucks and trailers. It was getting late, and his meeting with Riku was getting closer. The sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon, and the shadows outside were beginning to elongate and take on different forms.

"Yo."

Sora looked around himself in confusion, and a quick glance over his shoulders told him that he was, in fact, alone. "Hey, you," the voice called again. He flashed back to a recent episode of _Dateline_ he had seen where a serial killer lurked behind convenience stores and gas stations, luring them to their deaths. He suddenly had to use the restroom.

"Hey." This time, a figure stepped out from behind one of the trailers, throwing a large shadow against the wall. Sora imagined a little mouse stepping out, like in the cartoons he used to watch as a kid, but then he realized that it was hislife on the line, and whatever humor there was in the situation left immediately.

"How's it goin'?" At first, Sora couldn't make out the face, but when he finally did, he lurched backwards in surprise. It was the ghost—no, fortune-teller—from the carnival. She was wearing the same robes as the last time he had seen her, albeit a little more wrinkled, and this time around she was smoking a cheap cigarette. Old habits die hard, eh?

"Are you… really here?" Sora asked. He was sure he sounded like a socially inept moron, but it was all he could muster up the courage to say. "What are you talkin' about? Of course I am," she said, her voice thick with a mid-Atlantic accent and bad case of emphysema, "how else would I be talkin' to ya?" Sora frowned. "All right," she shrugged. "I'll level with you. I'm really dead."

Sora gasped as he took a giant step back. "Hey!" she said, raising her hands defensively, "I'm not gonna steal your soul or nothing. Jesus!" She rolled her eyes. "So how'd the potion work for ya?" Her mouth slowly changed into a sly smile. _"Est-ce que vous avez utilisé des préservatifs?"_

"It sucked," Sora said indignantly, ignoring what could only be very dirty French. "It didn't even work right." The gypsy nodded her head. "Yes it did, sweetie."

"Was it supposed to ruin my life?" the brunet growled. "We broke up for Christ sake!" The woman dropped her cigarette down and stamped it out with her heel. "Look, honey," she explained sternly, "That liquor was made to make whoever drinks it fall in love with _the one_, their soul mate. Can you at least appreciate that?" He looked away, embarrassed. "Yeah. Just, make things better with—with… me and Riku. I'm miserable," he said.

The gypsy nodded, "I have just the thing for you." She reached into one of the many folds in her robe and pulled out a small flask of green-tinted liquid. She swirled it around in her hand as if it were a glass of fine wine. "If you give this to…"

"Is it something direct?" Sora interrupted. "I want something that makes whoever drinks it fall in love with _me_, boom, right then and there. I'm tired of… this whole thing!" The gypsy nodded and quickly replaced the latest potion with another. This one was a light purple color. "Here."

Sora took it gingerly. She looked down her nose at him, reminding him of a wicked witch out of a children's movie. "There's only enough juice in that vial for one dose. Make sure you use it all, and use it well." His eyes lingered on the glass, before he turned his eyes back to her. "There's something different about you," she said. "Be thankful, or else I wouldn't have been so cordial."

He nodded.

"Well," she said, "go on. It's getting late." And with those parting words, she spun on her heels and left. Sora called out after her, but she was gone. Apparently, he thought, manners aren't something carnies are acquainted with. He looked down at the little container with a feeling of trepidation. He held his destiny in his hands. Knowing that kind of scared him. And the worst part of it was that he didn't know how—or if—it would work. He looked down at his watch. He didn't have much time to worry about it, though. His meeting with Riku was in thirty minutes.

7

The drive back was curiously uneventful, but his bladder suddenly urged him to make a stop. He had left right after his visit with Felicia, the not-so-dead carnival worker. And he had been too afraid to disobey her commands—she was a flippin' _ghost_—so he had left immediately. He swung into the all-too-familiar Gas 'n' Go parking lot and shut off his car before he all but sprinted indoors.

He gave a speedy wave to the attendant behind the counter (Roxas! he noted) and rushed to the bathrooms in the back. After relieving himself at the only urinal, he found himself at the sink, washing up. The dispenser on the wall was out of paper towels, so he wiped his hands down the side of his jeans. His hand ran across the vial in his pocket, and something suddenly flashed across his mind: should he give the potion to Riku… or to Roxas?

The restroom was empty save for him, so he slid the purple concoction out of his pocket and gave it one last look over. He frowned. Again he had to ask himself, this time aloud, "Riku or Roxas?" A pro and con list would be great here—they were both wonderful guys—but he had neither the time nor the resources to work his way through an entire debate. Besides, it wasn't like he was deciding between two different toaster ovens. This was him choosing who would fall in love with him forever, 'til death do us part.

He looked down at his watch. He was due to meet Riku in fifteen minutes. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to make it in time. He would have to call and let him know that he would be delayed. At the same time, he could always call him and cancel dinner all together. Roxas was right here in the same building, after all. But no, in the end logistics didn't matter at all in a situation like this.

He hated choices like this. He could have his mind set on something forever, but when it came down to the moment of truth, he would get distracted and stall. The fact that they were both equally wonderful options made it even worse. And even if he dumped Riku, what would he say to Roxas to get him to drink the damn stuff anyway? Hey, you look parched. Would you like a soda and a dash of manipulation, my treat?

No, of course not. But Roxas was still an option, and he could always come up with something clever to say. He walked deeper into the restroom and with a grunt of disgust, gingerly sat down on one of the toilets. The door's lock was broken, so it permanently hung open, but Sora didn't care.

Riku or Roxas?

Riku was his boyfriend. At least, he had been for the past year and a half. Throwing in the towel on everything they had worked for seemed insane to Sora. They were comfortable together, and he could easily learn to love him again. He had done it once. And with Riku under his spell this time (literally), it would make things twice as easy…

But Roxas made his heart jump. There was this passion that consumed his entire body whenever he thought of Roxas. He and Riku had lost it (and they would probably never regain it now), and he felt it here again for the first time in so long. God, he had missed that feeling. And the prospect of something new was always exciting.

After several minutes in the john, he couldn't decide on something old or something new, Riku or Roxas. He felt like throwing up. That was when he came up with an idea. Sure, it was pretty elementary—it might even sound downright stupid to some—but with the power to bend anyone's will (and he was starting to feel less and less terrible about that; was that a bad thing?), complexity wasn't an issue anymore.

So he left the bathroom and walked up to the front of the store. The large windows looked straight onto the highway. He stood before them, metal bars only slightly obscuring his view. It was a quiet night out, but he had passed a few drivers on the way back home. If a red car passed in front of the store by the time he counted to twenty, Sora firmly decided, he would somehow slip the potion to Roxas. If not, he would walk out of the store to win over his Riku and never come back again.

It was a simple idea, but he was at an impasse and, well, it would give him a definite answer. He took in a breath, held it. He let it slide out. He could feel Roxas's curious gaze on the back of his neck, but he ignored it. He just stood there and began to count.

"One. Two. Three. Four…"

-o-o-o-

** In my freshman honors class, we read _Don Quixote_, and in the text, there was a quick reference to a certain Spanish romance. I don't recall the name, but in _that_ story, there was a witch named Felicia. She was notable only because she made couples fall in love with different people by way of a potion. I found the whole idea interesting, so this was me putting her in a more modern setting, I suppose.**

** Like this Sora, I'm very indecisive. I eventually copped out and left the ending ambiguous (but we know which pairing I support) and decided to change the title. To me, _Love Potion No. 07_ sounded scientific. This story isn't. Instead, I chose a French title (simply _A Love Potion_) because voodoo, New Orleans, and French all go together.**

** Anyway, I digress... Thank you for stopping by, Dear Reader, and I hope to see you again real soon.**

**~TheColourOfStarlight**

**7/18/13**


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